The Filthy Tongues – Back to Hell

Two years ago Scottish band, The Filthy Tongues released a debut album which quite simply blew us away. It was a striking and increasingly haunting incitement of “caliginous flavours and textures.” Such its gothic beauty and immersive intimation we wondered if the trio had already laid down their finest moment and would struggle to match let alone eclipse its majesty again. Oh fool us! The band has just unveiled its successor in Back To Hell, a web of instinctive drama and invasive magnetism which puts its predecessor and pretty much most things this year to date in the shade.

Edinburgh hailing, The Filthy Tongues consists of vocalist/guitarist Martin Metcalfe, bassist Fin Wilson, and drummer Derek Kelly; the three previously members of Goodbye Mr Mackenzie and Angelfish alongside Shirley Manson. After the demise of those bands, all ventured into different projects, musical and not, before Wilson and Metcalfe came together as acoustic duo The Filthy Tongues, named from a phrase from a Goodbye Mr. Mackenzie song. This project subsequently evolved, the three gents back creating together and vocalist Stacey Chavis joining what would become Isobel Gowdie & the Filthy Tongues (to become Isa & the Filthy Tongues). Moving on, the band became three again and The Filthy Tongues with the startling Jacob’s Ladder the irresistible wake-up call to their presence and dark world. That first album was a tapestry of sound and styles; everything from dark rock, garage punk, surf, dark folk and post punk aligned to plenty other rich flavours as the band created almost salacious realms of seductive craft and gothically shadowed deeds. Back To Hell is more of the same yet a whole new landscape of manipulative imagination, riveting sound, and lyrical weaving.

As its predecessor, Back To Hell ventures through the dark claustrophobic underbelly of the Old Town in Edinburgh yet equally it incites the imagination to broaden its landscape and conjuring. It opens up with the addiction sparking Come on Home, a track instantly sharing an electric mist of intrigue and dark suggestion before springing an infection fuelled stroll stalked by the vocal prowess of Metcalfe. Like the sounds, his voice has a dirt clad texture, a gravelly tone which just draws you into the narrative and atmosphere of the developing aural theatre. Keys similarly bring a teasing suggestion to the mix as rhythms and guitars openly simmer. Swiftly hips were swaying to its call, head rocking to its swing and voice aiding the wonderfully tainted harmonies. The band’s new single, it is just superb, that haunting quality in their music already seducing via keys and voice as guitars weave and rhythms coax.

It is an outstanding start reinforced by the senses transfixing tale of The Ghost of Rab McVie. Strings and their electronic counterparts quickly infest the imagination, the first from the suggestive touch and craft of Susannah Clark. Metcalfe is soon within their descriptive midst, voice similarly nurturing thoughts as the song leads the listener into its melancholic heart. There is a beauty to it though which just seduces ears and imagination but with an earthiness keeping the dark surroundings fully in view before the album’s title track provides the gateway into a nefarious journey. Feeling like being trapped in a Celtic Wickerman driven nightmare, the song simultaneously overwhelms, indeed suffocates, and seduces all with increasing intensity. It is quite superb with the craft of Clark simply irresistible.

Mother’s got a Knife follows, its animated shuffle also getting under the skin within the first dance of enterprise before slipping into a smouldering glide; repeating the captivating cycle in swift time. Like a mercurial fusion of Th’ Legendary Shack Shakers, The Bad Seeds, and Wall Of Voodoo with a Josef K lining, the track was another which seduced and enslaved with ridiculous ease such its masterful imagination and virulent breath.

Next up Leper Town was just as persuasive, its pop infested rock ‘n’ roll reminding of a few  in some small ways but as ever, so unique to The Filthy Tongues as it had body and thoughts bouncing and appetite for their invention greedy. That individuality is never absent from a song as proven once more by Carlos the Jackal, menace and tenebrific elegance soaking its predacious yet infectious prowl while Who are you? is the band’s creative theatre at its most compelling and beguiling. It too has a threat in its air and beauty in its dark drawl; addiction for its creative alchemy once more inescapable.

The album goes out on the mesmeric croon of Take it, a song with a whisper of U2 meets Helldorado about it and a dirty laced grace which just fascinates as layers of sound seduce. It oozes beauty, loneliness, and temptation; a crepuscular radiance of sound and emotion which steals attention from the real world.

It is a glorious end to another extraordinary encounter with The Filthy Tongues. Their Jacob’s Ladder was one of the essential releases two years ago, Back to Hell is THE most vital release of this so far and hard to see being eclipsed too often over the months ahead.

Back to Hell is released May 25th through Neon Tetra / Blokshok Records.

http://www.filthytongues.com/   https://www.facebook.com/The-Filthy-Tongues-144934250476/   https://twitter.com/filthytongues

Pete RingMaster 21/05/2018

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

The Likkor Men – There Will Be Blood

There is something primal stirring in the depths of the UK rock scene, a lascivious force brewing up filthy attitude stained rock ‘n’ roll which is salacious and destructive, rabid and addictive and it goes by the name of The Likkor Men. The quartet from Redcar has just released new EP There Will Be Blood, a carnal beast of a release infesting the psyche as sonically it tries to live up to its declaration, and a fear breeding proposition it is truly hard to get enough of.

Formed in 2014 supposedly to “keep the members out of trouble”, The Likkor Men create a ravenous sound which is hard to pin down but openly corrupts everything from blues, garage, and punk rock to industrial, noise, and psychedelia. Most likely an introduction of the band to a great many, There Will Be Blood is their second EP but easy to feel the moment The Likkor Men asylum comes under true scrutiny.

The release instantly has the senses challenged with the outstanding Black Widow, noise and samples colluding to tenderise before heavy footed riffs stroll hungrily in as swinging beats bite. Blues grooves entangle the trespass as vocals prowl, a punk throated backing adding to the pleasure as the controlled chaos twists and turns. There is something of The Birthday Party meets Th’ Legendary Shack Shakers as Down fingers the union about the infestation but equally more than a whiff of bands like The Sonics and MC5 in the swamp of sound and dirt though what emerges is a scuzz storm all Likkor Men.

The opener remains the pinnacle of the release but is seriously harassed throughout with next up Young Blood needing little time to seduce and pervert ears and imagination. Ravishing the senses like a defiled fusion of Rob Zombie, Arthur Brown, and The Stooges, the track is wired rock ‘n’ roll as off-kilter as it is skilfully woven to invade and trespass the psyche. Deceptively catchy it is aural loco, a ruinous psych rock invasion infecting the listener like radiation.

Crazed easily applies to Sweet Talkin’ Mamma too, a sexual corruption built on the most addictive rhythmic strolls as fuzzy flames and toxic grooves like spewed by the pied piper like trespass. It is sonic bedlam, an insatiable lure of noise and rhythmic flirtation which maybe is a touch over long but teases and seduces from its depraved start to its libertine finish.

That sexual edge is taken to greater tension within closing song, Hunter. It is a nagging throb of rhythms and heavy riffs beneath sonic breezes of guitar. From the midst, gravel throated vocals, as throughout the EP, stir up the dirty business around them, grooves and hooks seeming to react decadently around them though everything is in its basest most single minded form to simply incite the listener’s rock ‘n’ roll instincts. Sixties garage rock is a rich fuel to the final assault, its contaminated strains sweet liquor within the soiled goodness.

There Will Be Blood will not be for the clean cut appetites among you but for those with wanton urges for rock ‘n’ roll in its grubbiest invigorating form no-one will be left wanting, only feeling very, very dirty.

There Will Be Blood is out now through Moon Skull Records @ https://moonskull.bandcamp.com/album/there-will-be-blood

https://www.facebook.com/TheLikkorMen/

Pete RingMaster 15/09/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Pig – Prey & Obey

If there is a more potent manipulator of body, imagination, and spirit than Raymond Watts it is hard to think of them especially as the latest <PÎG> EP is infesting the psyche with virulent ease. The mastermind behind <PÎG> and a founding member of KMFDM, Watts has infested the senses and passions with frequent regularity since the eighties whether in his projects or in collusion with numerous others, a long list we will leave you to explore, the Prey & Obey EP now adding to that tide of irresistible industrial rock bred temptations and trespasses.

Consisting of three new psyche trespassing incitements with drama fuelled remixes of each backing them up, Prey & Obey embeds itself in ears and appetite straight away with its title track. Guitars instantly rub themselves upon the senses, their raw intensive strokes almost flirtatious as thicker brooding textures come with rhythms and vocals. With Marc Heal and Phil Barry of Cubanate in league with Watts, the track prowls and preys on the senses, Watts like a dark conjuror as hooks and grooves crowd and litter washes of industrial toxicity. It is a glorious web of intrigue and danger, subservience coaxed and demanded by the track’s rampant rhythmic muscle as well as its virulent sonic and electronic dexterity.

The robustly stirring encounter is followed by The Revelation, an even more imposingly catchy enticement body and vocal chords alone fall before in swift time. Co-written with Ben Christo, long-serving guitarist with The Sisters of Mercy, the track roams with a predacious intent, its creative indoctrination built on waves of persistence honed into thought provoking, body twisting primal seduction. With an additional Ministry-esque nagging around glimpses of cinematic theatre, the song is pure devil spawn scheming, Watts the insidious engineer.

The Cult of Chaos ventures across a calmer landscape of persuasion though the song written with former Combichrist member Z.Marr shares its own individual and challenging shadows. Their dark edges court the mellower presence of vocals and melodic suggestion, the song’s infection carrying eighties industrial flavourings merging with harsher textures reflecting the world today. Transfixing in its throbbing repetition, magnetic in its harmonic and melodic tapestry, the track beguiles and intrudes with equal ingenuity; addiction the guaranteed response.

Completing the release is firstly a psychotic remix of the track Prey & Obey by Leaether Strip, the track given a make-over resembling the bastard result of Th’ Legendary Shack Shakers meeting Celldweller. Its inescapable stomp is followed by the Z.Marr Revelectrix Mix of The Revelation; a version which simultaneously feel heroic and serial killer like in its tone and physical intent.

Completed by the En Esch Remix of the opener, a subdued but enticing take, the Prey & Obey EP is pure industrial corruption bred with the finest creative toxins. Each of its three tracks is a rabidly tempting and resonating anthem backed by highly evocative alternative aspects; what more would you want?

Prey & Obey is out now through Metropolis Records @ https://metropolisrecords.bandcamp.com/album/prey-obey

https://pigindustries.com/    https://www.facebook.com/pigindustries/    https://twitter.com/raymondwatts

Pete RingMaster 18/07/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Buzzkillz – Scum Of The Earth

There is always great enjoyment in the snowball effect of discovering one new band which in turns leads to another and so on. Checking out the new album from Finnish band Wanton on Undead Artists inspired the thought of what other psychobilly bands were hidden in the underground of their homeland. Quickly standing out amongst a potent many was Helsinki quartet Buzzkillz for which a like on their Facebook profile was inevitable. This in turn sparked the band to get in touch with their latest album Scum Of The Earth and now an eager recommendation of its contagious punkabilly.

Buzzkillz was formed in 2011 by vocalist/guitarist Ultima Foole and double bassist Jybe, the pair after playing for many years in their own respective bands “decided to do better music together”. A few personnel changes led to the current and potent line-up of guitarist Antti and drummer Joiku alongside the founding pair stepping forward in 2015 with an arsenal of punk/rockabilly bred tracks. The following year saw the band record their debut album with the uncaging of Scum Of The Earth coming in its fall and still luring a host of new hungry appetites for their sound week by week,.

Scum Of The Earth opens up with Sick Of It All, enticing with a Clash like beckoning before stomping through ears with psychobilly muscle and virulence. Rhythms take no prisoners, beats a thumping trespass backed by the delicious resonating bait that only a double bass can offer. The vocal growl of Ultima is quickly in the bullying mix, his grouchy tones backed potently across the band as the song cantankerously bounds across the senses. With wiry melodies adding to the pleasure, it is a great start swiftly backed up by the addictive punk ‘n’ roll shuffle of Deepest Pockets. Like a mix of Russian punks Biting Elbows and the Danes Grumpynators, the track soon has body and spirit locked in its grip and with consummate ease.

I’m Not The One comes next, its cowpunk flavouring another easy to embrace temptation and the spicy lining to the track’s contagious swing before the album’s title track brings a dirtier, grittier slab of rock ‘n’ roll to the party. Both tracks hit the spot dead centre, the second with a tone reminding of The Peacocks but equally each is overshadowed by the rousing rumble and incitement of Losing The Fight. With anthemic rhythms alone stoking up feverish fires, the song ensnares eager ears and appetite, treating both to a mesh of sultry melodies over relentlessly catchy rhythms.

Through the punk ‘n’ roll intimidation of Outside, Jybe unleashing another simply irresistible infection of bass, and the sinister rockabilly seduction of Fear Of The Unknown, band and album further share rich variety and salacious flirtation while Roll The Dice delves into some ska punk seeded devilment to stretch that diversity within those three songs alone.

Psychobilly drives the irritable charge of Monsters next, the track a rapacious trespass of ears and pleasure simultaneously infesting and captivating the imagination. Its melodies entice with zeal as riffs and rhythms badger and trap an instinctive appetite for their source genre; a psychobilly flavouring just as eagerly fuelling the carnivorous exploits of Some Scars, a track something akin to The Meteors in league with Nekromantix.

There is a whiff of Tiger Army to the smouldering seduction of Sleepwalking but at times even more so of Th’ Legendary Shack Shakers with its dark off-kilter invention. Persistently, the song unveils a fresh twist and hue to its rock ‘n’ roll, emerging the most unique and thrilling proposal in a horde of only striking encounters.

The album ends with the muscular rock ‘n’ roll of Cross To Bare, a slab of punk rock putting a feisty cap on one rousing and thoroughly enjoyable release. There are plenty of familiar hues to the album but with a freshness and inventive prowess which employs rather than relies on them. Buzzkillz is a band ready to embrace attention far beyond their homeland, they have done their part in that aim with Scum Of The Earth; the rest is down to you. Now the question is from their discovery where will we be next led…

Scum Of The Earth is available now @ https://buzzkillzband.bandcamp.com/releases

https://www.facebook.com/Buzzkillzband/

Pete RingMaster 18/04/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

The Hangmen – Necronomicon

photo by Phil Whiteley_Intial P Photography

It might not always have been openly declared but there is no escaping that British cult rockers, The Hangmen have been an inspiring force on the underground psychobilly scene since the early nineties and the first of seven greedily devoured and increasingly lauded albums. They defy, nay violate accepted musical conventions and expectations in attitude, deed, and sound whilst creating a blend of psychobilly and garage punk which only inspires in its uniqueness and irreverence; the evidence in the sounds escaping the imagination of bands like Dick Venom and The Terrortones and Dedwardians whether from direct or third hand inspiration. Now the trio return with a new three track infestation of body and psyche, an irresistible trespass sure to have even more willingly swinging from their creative gallows.

This new studio material has been a long awaited incitement, anticipation hanging on since the release of seventh album Cacklefest! in 2007, though there was also the rarities collection of Exhumed & Groomed to drool over three years ago. It has been fresh dark Hangmen swing fans have yearned for though and Necronomicon more than delivers. It is the most predatory and creatively deranged adventure yet with the threesome of vocalist/guitarist Loz Firewalker, bassist/vocalist Leapin’ Lizard Phillips, and drummer Dyin’ Ryan and with all its songs taken from upcoming full-length Hells Vagina, The EP is a salacious teaser of hell bent rock ‘n’ roll at its most deviously compelling.

The EP’s title track is first up, its homage to cult movie gem Evil Dead pure invasive theatre. From its initial piano cursed fingering of the imagination, the track twists into a predacious stroll with infection seeping from every pore. Swinging beats and a heavy rapacious bassline courts the senses whilst a seductively nagging hook teases, Firewalker barging in with his vocal roar as raucously backed by the vociferous tones of Phillips. Dragging the listener into its transfixing hellbound realm prone to caustic expulsions, harrying them with a gloriously plodding prowl, the track reveals itself as raw virulence cast in something approaching The Cramps meeting Th’ legendary Shack Shakers as The Orson Family add their incestuous lures ultimately emerging as a depraved invasion all of the band’s making.

The punk stomp of Collarbomb keeps the pleasure as lustfully inflamed, its own naturally mischievous and virulent swagger rapturous bait alone only matched up by the spicy grooves and fifties seeded boldness fuelling its persistently dynamic and insatiable two minute epidemic.

It is fair to say these ears and appetite were fevered by the end of the pair and only ignited again by closer The Great Brain Robbery, the song managing to find an even rawer toxic majesty to its clamour. Driven by a forceful strut with bedlam in its arsenal, the track as its predecessors swiftly gets under the skin incessantly ravishing the senses with its instinctive and inventive babel.

Necronomicon is the kind of treat for which any length of wait can be accepted while providing a taster of a release which will be even more desperately anticipated from this point on.

The Necronomicon EP is out now through Moon Skull Records on 10″ vinyl and download @ https://hangmen666.bandcamp.com/album/necronomicon-ep

Video directed/edited by Ryan Pilot

https://www.facebook.com/thehangmen    https://twitter.com/Hangmen666

Pete RingMaster 17/03/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

The Masonics – Obermann Rides Again

masonics_RingMasterReview

Giving an instinctive passion for rock ‘n’ roll as big a work out as hips and feet, UK rockers The Masonics recently uncaged their ninth album, Obermann Rides Again, offering fourteen slices of their feverishly distinctive and tenaciously addictive sound. The trio rock and rumble through their new proposal with more of the beat infected garage punk which has seen them become the leaders of the Medway Beat first instigated by Billy Childish. In saying that, it equally breathes and roars with freshness again bringing something new and inspiring to ears and the scene around them, and most of all raw zeal and excitement to the listener.

The band consists of vocalist/guitarist Mickey Hampshire who was in the Milkshakes in the early 80s with drummer Bruce Brand who had played alongside Childish a few years earlier in the Pop Rivets and bassist John Gibbs once of Scottish group, The Kaisers. As The Masonics, the threesome have persistently cemented their position as one of the heads of British garage rock/punk with a sound becoming one of the essential inspirations of the ever eager charge of the genre’s young pups.

Released by Dirty Water Records as a limited 500 copies editions ahead of a series of limited vinyl and download releases from The Masonics’ back catalogue, starting with Outside Looking In and a new singles compilation, Obermann Rides Again swiftly reveals why the stature of the band remains stately. It all starts with I Ain’t Hurting For You and a guitar twang which provides the spark for a strolling jangle and rhythmic incitement forcibly engaging ears. The magnetic vocals of Hampshire are soon adding their lure; the boisterous sounds around him echoing his honest unfussy delivery. Within a handful of seconds feet are physically involved, appetite and those instincts just as eagerly hooked before the excellent opener hands its pliable slave over to the even more energetically captivating and persuasive Don’t Torment Me. With a Bo Diddley like stomp at its heart, the track twists and turns in its relentlessly vigorous shuffle with rhythmic rowdiness and sonic vivacity its virulent fuel. Rock ‘n’ roll was never meant to be flamboyant or polished to clean-cut limpness and this superb roisterer and its dirty ways proves why.

art_RingMasterReviewYour Dangerous Mind has a less undisciplined bounce, its saunter more flirtation than aggression and just as irresistible as Hampshire with grainy texture croons, backed by his cohorts within tangy grooves and hip inciting rhythms. The r&b essences of the song are just as ripe as its brisk punk serenade, chaining a body and imagination which is soon firmly hooked again by the sultry rumba of I Don’t Understand Her Any More. As with most tracks, a collusion of decades is at masterful play, sixties garage pop and seventies surf rock hues potent spices as too the fuzzy buzz of organ in the gentle but keen canter of a song.

Rhythm ‘n’ blues dexterity becomes even wilder in next up You Don’t Have To Travel; the beat swinging, hook casting romp has a flush of King Salami and the Cumberland 3 to it,  a more mild-mannered but no less devilish cousin enjoying juicy melodies and the temptress vocal charms of Ludella Black alongside Hampshire. It also pushes the already keen diversity of sound within the album on again, as even more so does I’m The Unforgiver. The track is glorious, a dark rock ‘n’ roll saunter with Cajun spicing evocatively colouring attitude loaded vocals, the fiery shimmer of harmonica, and heavily loping rhythms. It infests ears and psyche like the mutant offspring from a dirty union between Th’ Legendary Shack Shakers and Ray Campi; quite simply it is garage punk to get truly lustful over.

The following and equally outstanding You’re A Stranger leaves body exhausted, senses punch drunk, and spirit ablaze next with its contagion loaded punk rock carrying a touch of The Mobbs to its rowdy exuberance while You Won’t See Me Again finds a predacious edge to its swinging, deviously catchy garage rock bred swagger.

Throughout the whole album, there is no escaping the physical manipulation of Brand’s nefarious beats or Gibbs infernal rhythms whilst Hampshire’s wiry melodies and jangling melodic hooks are trespasses more often than not breeding slavery. All are at bold play in the beat punctuated blues flamed I’m A Redacted Man and straight after in the smouldering fifties rock ‘n’ roll/sixties pop spun What Do You Do. A procrastinating stroll and anthem for lost love and its enslaving grief, the second’s raw seduction roars with soiled Walker Brothers like charm and salty melodic spicing reminding a little of The Birds.

Come On My Little Darlin’ bounces around like a dancehall ruffian after them, sonically tempting and rhythmically taunting as a mouth harp again seduces before You Gotta Tell Me shows its blues breeding with intoxicating hooks and intoxicated keys for a salacious slab of imposing but controlled rock ‘n roll. Both tracks continue the album’s appetite igniting prowess though both are quickly eclipsed by its closing pair.

The swinging country rock a-scented beat ‘n’ roll of The Unsignposted Road is sheer infectiousness with Black back courting ears alongside the band as one passion stoking hook persists and old school melodies flame. It is delicious to the ear but too is slightly shaded by the brilliance of the album’s title track bringing devilment to its exceptional close. Punk ‘n’ roll calling on the goodness of past decades, it stomps around and grips body and soul like The Pirates, both the Johnny Kidd and seventies eras, meeting Thee Headcoats as the likes of The Blue Cats spur them on; a glorious end to an equally stirring and enjoyable album.

As suggested earlier, The Masonics are the head boys of UK garage goodness and Obermann Rides Again is evidence they are in no mood to hand over that position.

Obermann Rides Again is out now on vinyl on the band’s own Grand Wazeau Records and digitally through Dirty Water Records and available @ https://themasonics.bandcamp.com/album/obermann-rides-again

https://www.facebook.com/themasonics/

Pete RingMaster 05/03/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Los Cabrones Profanos – Ogun Vodun

cover_RingMasterReview

Hailing from Milan, Los Cabrones Profanos is a band creating incendiary stomps from the collusion of varied strains of country blues and garage punk. The evidence can be found on the band’s new album Ogun Vodun, thirteen tracks of illegitimate stomping and blues-blooded mischief. More we can tell you about the Italian band though is limited though they consist of guitarist Blind Frankie, drummer El Cabron, vocalist Il Reverendo, and mandolin player Pollo Braineater, and have unleashed one excellent treat with Ogun Vodun.

The album opens with the sinister lure of Intro the distress; a brief guitar cast instrumental awakening ears and thoughts before its sonic tail is joined by striding rhythms and the body of Midnight Blues. As dark and dangerously seductive as its name might suggest, the track is soon strolling with a devilish swagger equipped with spicy hues of harmonica and dour yet magnetic vocals. Its air is raw, almost predacious as the song sizzles upon the senses while heading to an explosive and irritable finale of sound and energy.

Bad Boys Boogie follows taking similar spices into its punk ‘n’ roll rioting, spilling irresistible hooks and recognisable rockabilly riffs second by second. There is a touch of US duo Into The Whale to the song, though its fifties nature is most vocal and pleasing before Il Blues è morto shares its sultry and melancholic landscape of evocative guitar melodies and vocals with the harmonica adding additional flaming to the compelling wake.

The album’s great start only continues in full charge as firstly the volatile cowpunk romp of No fun down in Nashville rumbles and grips ears alongside an already eager appetite for what is on offer and straight after Brace viciously erupts upon the senses with its Black Flag meets Powersolo like dementia. The track is glorious, a flavouring of The Cramps adding extra potency to the invasion of the senses.

Siesta is 20 seconds of raw snoring, literally, before the dark swing of Figlio del Voodoo reveals its Cajun sorcery through voice and mandolin devilment against guitar temptation. The first of the two is just what it is and soon passed over across subsequent listens but its successor is pure bewitchment which never explodes into the devilry it suggests it will but thrills and blossoms because of that restraint.

Incroci has a Latin slicing to its mandolin seducing, the rest of the song’s body providing a mariachi nurtured stomping with a touch of Th’ Legendary Shack Shakers to its infectiousness, while Il Blues dei miei peccati mixes the band’s penchant for cowpunk and country blues in another quaintly hued and inescapably catchy canter with plenty of imposing shadows and fiery temptations for appealing measure.

As expected I Stomp does exactly what it says on the tin, its incessant wave of hooks and vocal simplicity a call to hips and feet, not forgetting vocal chords to rock ‘n’ roll, all only finding rest once the enjoyable dusty balladry of Hank takes over.

Completed by the Outro in Hell, another potent instrumental persuasion, Ogun Vodun leaves thick pleasure and a just as big want for more in its wake. Without breaking wholly new ground, the album is as fresh as it is inexcusably mischievous while Los Cabrones Profanos is a band all dark blues and garage punk fans should become acquainted with.

Ogun Vodun is available now @ https://loscabronesprofanos.bandcamp.com/

https://www.facebook.com/loscabronesprofanos/

Pete RingMaster 15/09/2016

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright